


Our Hands, They Seek

by TerribleWithRaisins



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Choking, Established Relationship, Face-Sitting, Felching, Future Fic, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, References to Traumatic Past, Rimming, Rough Sex, Too many references to Catholicism than is a appropriate for a pwp fic, erotic asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerribleWithRaisins/pseuds/TerribleWithRaisins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has tears in the corners of his eyes, his cheeks are red with the effort of breathing steadily but there’s no sign of fear. No sign of anything less than pure pleasure in his eyes. It blows Bucky’s mind that Steve can give himself over to a man like him, no hesitation, even though he knows everything Bucky’s done. The cathartic release Bucky gets from this is too precious to put into words and fuck, he’ll gladly spend the rest of his life trying to give Steve even a small fraction of what Steve gives him every day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Hands, They Seek

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who like music with your PWP fic: http://8tracks.com/woman_king/our-hands-they-seek
> 
> Shout out to Trophy_Kill1991 for the encouragement and for giving this a once-over!
> 
> Also, for context's sake, this fic takes place at an unspecified point in the future but probably a few years from now, likely after Cap 3.

 

Handsome. There’s no other word to describe Steve, sitting on a leather side chair bathed in the late morning light. Blond hair slicked back, his military-precise cut grown out just a little too long, his eyes are set in a hard stare out the floor-to-ceiling window but his jaw is relaxed, his red mouth soft. His thick, rough-spun shirt, an ugly straw colour, is stretched across his broad shoulders and the rolled-up sleeves are tight around his forearms. Pale hair on his arms catching the light. Dark chinos fitted around muscular legs. He’d disagree, but Steve was always a handsome man. Now though, he’s glorious. The sight of him is a fucking balm for eyes that have seen a lot of ugliness the past couple of weeks.

Bucky leans against the doorjamb of the ultra-modern apartment in the Avengers tower and is caught, trapped by the image of his _Steve_ , the real Steve, the 20th century man, looking at home coloured in honey-soft light, jarring in its absolute counterpoint to the bland modernity in the rest of the apartment. It’s an apartment fit for a rich superhero, sure. But everything about his Steve is warmth, not sepia-toned, but a blinding-hot kaleidoscope of colour, richer than anything else in their new world. It strikes him sometimes, so absurd that they’re here, the both of them, in a glass and steel castle in the sky. He supposes the mishmash of new and old works for them now. He’s not sure he could take it if the world was the same as it was before—

“Hi,” Steve is looking toward him and his eyes are bright and his shoulders are relaxed now he’s seen Bucky in one piece, his mouth turned up in a smirk. Bucky returns it. He had been in North Africa for nineteen goddamn days and now he was home and _that_ was the reaction he had hoped to get when he saw Steve, or rather when Steve saw him. Bucky’s hair is still damp from his shower and he’s wearing nothing but a towel, snug around his waist and fuck it, he knows he looks good. “Took you long enough.”

Bucky usually took notoriously short showers, same as Steve, same as most people like them, not that there was anyone else like them.

“I heard you come in when I was in the shower, I was hoping after ten minutes or so, you’d take the hint and come join, you big lug, but...” Bucky trails off and moves inside the room while Steve turns to face him fully, legs splayed confidently.

Steve laughs, “Sorry to disappoint, but your subtle hints might be a bit _too_ subtle for me, Buck.”

Bucky stalks a little closer, “Ah, that’s a crying shame.” His feet lead him closer and closer still, Steve’s living room was really unnecessarily large but God knows there wasn’t any sort of distance he could put between himself and Steve where he wouldn’t feel a gravitational pull toward him, as surely as the moon feels the pull of the Earth. Certainly, he had tried, tried hard to stay away. No longer though. Steve, eyes still squinting from the sun, reaches out for him now, hand grabbing toward Bucky’s towel as he starts to rise from the chair.

In a flash of metal, Bucky grasps Steve’s right wrist with his left hand when he’s just a scant inch from his goal and uses his warm, flesh hand to shove Steve back into the chair. Places Steve’s hand back on his lap, wordless commandment to _Stay Put_ obvious in his gentle-firm touch. Steve, his gorgeous, mouthy, insolent Steve, doesn’t say a single word. “Good boy,” Bucky breathes out, laughing, taking half a step back. He used to worry before, about his... rougher demeanour, that Steve would mistake it for unwillingness or lack of caring when they were... intimate. Steve gets him though, he _gets_ him. Now, Bucky is a little more comfortable with a gentle touch, he knows gentle doesn’t mean he’s weak or out of control.

Clouds drift by outside the window, obscuring the sun, breaking the golden cast of light across Steve’s face, making him look a little paler, a little less magnificent and golden, a little more real in a way that ensures Bucky doesn’t feel like he should maybe say a few Hail Mary’s just to be a little more worthy of his presence. Perfect for what Bucky’s about to do to him, because heaven knows there’s nothing virtuous or saintly about his plans.

His eyes rake over Steve’s face, over his exposed throat and his broad chest and he licks his lips, _yeah_. He definitely had plans.

“I _was_ going to scrub every inch of you clean then cuff you to the shower head while I get thoroughly re-acquainted with that gorgeous ass of yours. Eat you out ‘til the water runs cold, maybe?” Steve swallows audibly. Bucky looks up pointedly, “Mind you, this is Stark’s building, that would probably take a very long time. But you know I can be a very patient man when given the right incentive.” He steps between Steve’s parted legs and metal fingers reach to card through Steve’s hair, loosening it from the gluey pomade holding it together, before coming to rest on the back of Steve’s neck and he watches Steve’s eyes flutter shut.

Bucky’s other hand slides roughly through his long, damp hair, pushing it back out of his eyes; he wants to be able to see everything. There’s a lot to see. It was so easy to get Steve going and _fuck_ , it was a nice sight to look at. His hands are clenching to keep from touching, the beads of sweat above his lip and barely dilated pupils the only other signs of arousal. Not good enough.

Bucky’s left hand tightens around the back of Steve’s neck and he leans down, kissing the sweat from Steve’s upper lip, loving the feel of stubble scraping against his lips and the salty taste of his skin. Then he’s jerking his head away before Steve has the presence of mind to tilt his head and kiss him back. He pouts downright adorably, “Bucky, that’s not fair.”

Bucky doesn’t smile but it’s a near thing. He needs to be firm with Steve; the man has no qualms taking liberties if Bucky gives him even an inch, “Shhh, you ruined Plan A. This is Plan B, and you’re not in charge right now, Captain, capisce?” Steve nods, pout still in place but his tongue held, definite interest dancing in his blue eyes.

For a moment, Bucky can’t break his stare away from them, Jesus, he had missed him so fucking—nope. _Stick to the plan, Barnes. No getting soft_. He straightens up, metal hand still stroking Steve’s neck lightly and Steve tips his head to meet Bucky’s eyes, “As I was saying, I was going to eat you out ‘til the water runs freezing, turn on that intense jet spray. Get those sensitive nipples of yours rock hard... it wouldn’t take much. Try and keep your cock hard even with the icy water on blast. Just my tongue and fingers in your ass, hmm, Rogers? What do you think? Obviously, I can’t do that now.” He starts unknotting his towel with his right hand, watching Steve’s eyes follow his hand, tongue wetting his lips

“Well, don’t let me stop you from doing some of that, Bucky— _Jesus_.” Steve’s held back by Bucky’s fingers at his collar bone but he groans and his lower half moves closer on the chair when Bucky pulls his towel away, draping it around his own neck instead of dropping it, and he watches as Steve’s gaze drops to his rock-hard cock, pointed enticingly toward him.

“Too late.” He glides his metal hand back up Steve’s neck, phantom sensations setting off in his fingertips, the warmth of Steve’s skin, the beating of his heart pulsing in the thick artery under his hand. He mainly feels pressure, not true sensual feeling, but he knows Steve’s body as well as he knows his own, has for years. His memories aren’t all back but some things are vivid still, though it was decades ago, hell, a whole other lifetime ago. They may have had a hiatus but Bucky knows Steve thoroughly from then and from now. His lips and his flesh-and-bone hand have worshiped all the places cold metal touches now. It took some time but he knows Steve with this hand now too. If old Zola could see what his prized achievement in weaponry was being used for now. The thought twists Bucky’s guts with sick pleasure before he directs his mind back to the present, away from that dangerous, well-worn path.

He slides his fingers down, catching on the buttons of Steve’s shirt. His other hand wraps around Steve’s broad shoulder, the warmth of him seeping through rough fabric to Bucky’s skin. He could afford better quality sure, but nostalgia and a lifetime of being poor had kept him shopping at the army surplus and discount stores for his personal wardrobe. Bucky gets it, even if he didn’t care to do the same. Steve’s breathing is a little erratic now, funny how that could go from scaring Bucky half to death a lifetime ago to making his dick twitch now, knowing he was the cause, not illness and faulty lungs. He strokes down to the centre of Steve’s chest slowly undoing each button of the shirt, letting either side fall away and smiling at Steve’s little gasp as cold metal stroked down his thin undershirt. When he reaches the bottom he pulls it roughly from where it’s tucked into Steve’s pants, pushing his shirt open, baring Steve’s ripped chest, white undershirt leaving little to Bucky’s overactive imagination. They’re both quiet, Steve waiting to see what Bucky does next, Bucky listening intently for every change in Steve’s breathing, out of habit, out of desire to hear his effect on the man.

Impatient as ever, Bucky meets Steve’s eyes for a split second before ripping his tank top open, cleanly as if cut by scissors. Steve doesn’t even look mad about it. Just breathes a little shallower, shuffles a little closer. Bucky pushes him back again, running thick, metal fingers up his belly before pressing firmly at his sternum ‘til Steve’s settled just where he wants’em. He bites his lip at Steve’s shiver and doesn’t even think before moving to straddle Steve on the chair, the hot skin of his chest coming to rest against Steve’s, the quick temperature change making Steve moan and reach out, grabbing Bucky’s muscular bare thighs as he settles on top of him.

Bucky doesn’t care to stop him, lets his legs fall open wider as Steve pulls him closer, gets him exactly where he needs him, the sensitive skin of his balls hauled roughly against Steve’s clothed erection. He’s lost his train of thought but all that matters is this right here. Both hands wrap around Steve’s jaw as Steve’s hands squeeze his thighs and hips, and he kisses him, finally, finally, finally.

When they had started this, ages ago, Steve hadn’t been with too many people, not like Bucky had. But, Jesus, what Steve had lacked for in experience he had made up for in exuberance tenfold.

Now though, Steve’s got the skill and hell if he was good before (and he was so damn good), he’s fucking _devastating_ now.

Steve knows exactly what Bucky likes, when Bucky likes it and he gives it to him. Every time, exactly what he needs before he even knows he needs it. Right now, Bucky wants to lead this dance and Steve is content to let him. He relaxes against him, an exquisite sigh torn from his slick lips as Bucky kisses him deeply. He lets himself be possessed by Bucky, doesn’t push back, just takes it. And judging by the firm bulge under Bucky, it’s working for him just fine.

Bucky slows the kiss, pulling back just enough so he’s just resting his mouth against Steve’s, breathing him in and enjoying the way Steve feels against his swollen lips. He traces Steve’s bottom lip with his tongue before diving back in. His tongue strokes the inside of Steve’s mouth, runs over his teeth, something that usually makes Steve laugh uncontrollably. He hears a soft snort and feels Steve’s mouth quirk into a grin but he doesn’t move away, just pushes closer to Bucky while he moves one of his hands to press against the small of Bucky’s back, fingers digging in on either side of his spine.

Bucky lets go of Steve’s mouth, nipping softly, leaning right back in to kiss him quickly once more before straightening up to look him in the eye. He drops his arms to his side and tightens his thighs around Steve’s hips, an unnecessary action because Steve’s hands immediately come up to envelop his face, stroking his ear, his jaw and his neck, holding him there as though he’s in any sort of danger of Bucky getting up and walking away.

He dares to look a little sheepish when he says, “You gonna take me to bed, Buck?”

Bucky smiles wickedly. Sister Mary Ellen always said he looked like he had the devil in him when he smiled like that in Sunday school and she used to cross herself as she’d walk away from him, but Steve was nothing short of appreciative when the smile was directed at him. It usually led to fun, if not particularly pious, activities. “Now, why would I do that when we got this perfectly good chair right here?”

“Come on, you jerk, we might be kicked out on our asses if we break any more furniture in this place.” Steve immediately looks stricken as the words leave his mouth, probably a little guilty using _that_ against him. Half the furniture in the place has been replaced since Bucky moved into the tower, mostly due to his uncontrollable outbursts of anger and rage when his recovery wasn’t easy... and it was never easy. His triggers are numerous and varied, and he’s long lost hope that he’ll ever escape his demons, but most days were okay, now. And some days, some days were _good_. “Bucky, I’m sorry, I—”

Bucky slaps a hand over his mouth and bumps his forehead softly against Steve’s. “Maybe I should gag you, huh? No, Steve, shhhhh. It’s fine. If we can’t joke about the absolute shit that goes on in our lives with each other, than what’s the fucking point?” Steve nods slowly, eyes earnestly staring back at Bucky. He might as well be in love with a goddamn puppy, Christ.

Bucky pulls his hand away and reaches back and undrapes the mostly dry towel from his neck before wrapping it around Steve’s slowly, taking hold of either end. “Well if this ain’t to your liking, then I suppose–”

Before Steve can answer, Bucky tightens his legs around Steve and falls back, off the chair, onto the rug by the window, using his thighs and the towel around Steve’s neck to pull him along. They land hard, Steve’s reflexes immediately breaking his fall before he can drop all his weight onto Bucky, but he quickly covers Bucky, shoulder to groin, rocking into him, trailing his mouth down Bucky’s neck ‘til he can kiss along the scars on his shoulder. The chair tipped over, but, as far as Bucky can tell, it’s in one piece.

“You’re wearing too much, come on, off, off,” Bucky reaches down to pull Steve’s open shirt and ripped tank top from his arms. Then, Steve finishes the job, throwing the garments to the side, never breaking contact between his lips and Bucky’s skin. Things are starting to go off beam now. Bucky is all for a little role-reversal but today he wants the reins.

He flips Steve onto his back, rolling with him to straddle his hips, grabbing hold of the towel with his metal hand and pulling it tight across Steve’s windpipe. Not too tight, but enough that Steve knows he’s serious. The blue of his irises can barely be seen, his pupils are blown so wide, his lips fall open and Bucky can hear his ragged breath as loud as he can hear his own pulse beating in his eardrums. Fuck. This man.

Bucky tightens the towel enough so Steve has to fight just a little to get a lungful of air. He uses his right hand to scrape over Steve’s chest, nails catching his nipple before reaching down to cup Steve’s erection, pressing just a little too rough but still not nearly enough.

It sends fire coursing through his veins, leaves his mind in a love-drunk haze, the knowledge that they don’t really have to be careful with each other. When they want to, they can go hard, let off a little steam while getting off and they could be confident that other man could take it, and give it back just as good.

Steve has tears in the corners of his eyes, his cheeks are red with the effort of breathing steadily but there’s no sign of fear. No sign of anything less than pure pleasure in his eyes. It blows Bucky’s mind that Steve can give himself over to a man like him, no hesitation, even though he knows everything Bucky’s done. The cathartic release Bucky gets from this is too precious to put into words and fuck, he’ll gladly spend the rest of his life trying to give Steve even a small fraction of what Steve gives him every day. A daunting mission to be sure, to be someone deserving of Steve Roger’s love and trust, but on his Mother’s grave he swears he’ll work for it every day.

He presses the heel of his hand into Steve until Steve bucks against him, and then he tightens the towel wrapped around Steve’s neck ever so slightly. Grabbing hold of Steve’s belt buckle, Bucky holds him in place and starts to roll his hips slowly, rubbing his leaking cock against the fabric stretched over Steve’s cock. It’s a bit too rough, a bit too dry to be entirely comfortable but it’s a relief after thinking about this all morning. Steve groans and sucks in a lungful of air just as Bucky pulls the towel away completely and replaced it with his solid metal hand, fingers wrapped around Steve’s soft, warm throat.

“You’re too fucking good to me, Steve. So good for me. Always so good. You take everything I dish out—any other man, Steve. _God_ , any other man would’ve packed it in years ago but you take it all. And I’m selfish, because I’m never gonna be done with you. I need you too fucking bad, sweetheart. But, you need me too, don’t you? You love this, don’t you? Tell me you need it now, Steve, _tell me_ , baby.” He’s not even sure Steve is really paying attention to what he’s saying now, but Bucky moves his hand from his throat anyways, reaches down to start unbuckling Steve’s belt with both hands, his hips still grinding slowly, a taste, a tease of what’s to come.

Steve gasps a little, then: “Bucky, please, I need it. _Y’know I do_...”

If there’s sure-thing about Steve Rogers' and Bucky Barnes’ relationship it’s that they both have a deep, innate need to push each other’s buttons. Steve will probably make him pay for it later, but patience isn’t really Bucky’s forte. He moves between Steve’s legs before he roughly pulls his belt from the loops in his chinos, tossing it aside (okay, across the room) before ripping open his fly.

“Buck— _ohh_!”

Bucky would tease him for the incoherence but his mouth is a little preoccupied, saliva dripping around Steve’s cock as he stretches his mouth around the thick of it. His cock was shockingly thick; it took some effort to be able to take him this easily, but Bucky was a competent man and it didn’t take long for it to become second nature, taking Steve’s cock in his mouth, into his throat. Swallowing all around him, nose pressed to his pubic bone. Steve overwhelming all of his senses in the most exhilarating way. Bucky loved it.

He pulls back a little to suck lazily at Steve, his flesh-and-blood hand curling around Steve’s leg to rest on his inner thigh, lifting his leg up onto Bucky’s shoulder. With his metal hand he strokes the outside of his other leg, cold metal rasping against Steve's trousers.

“Please, Buck,” Steve’s resting on his elbows now, staring down at Bucky’s wet lips around his dick. He bets it’s a pretty sight. “You’re killing me.”

Bucky’s pulls back, soft _pop_! falling from his lips as Steve’s cock falls away from him. Steve whimpers. Hand-to-God, he _whimpers_. Jesus.

Bucky pulls Steve’s legs further apart and slides up his body, letting Steve’s legs come to rest around his hips before taking Steve’s face in his hand and kissing that beautiful mouth again. He kisses him slow, drawing back to lay kisses on his stubbled chin and jaw before diving back in, sucking his bottom lip between his own lips, biting roughly.

Steve tips his head back with a soft gasp and Bucky lets his face go reluctantly before leaning down to breathe in the heady scent of him, nose to the hollow of his throat, where the red marks from his earlier grip there have already disappeared. He huffs out a laugh, tickling Steve a little, making him squirm. He leans over to whisper in Steve’s ear. “You wanted me to waste time taking you to bed? No, sweetheart, I’m gonna take you right here on the floor,”

Steve, the insatiable tart, spreads his legs wider.

“Good. Good, we’re on the same page, ain’t we, Steve?” There was a time, a very short time, where Steve was a little coyer, a little bit bashful at the idea of telling Bucky what he wanted, no better about showing him, too damn delicate in his approach. Part of it was due to his own insecurities, but a bit of him thought Bucky wasn’t ready to be with someone, as if he was some delicate spun glass ornament that would shatter the second he stuck his cock in it. Thank fuck that was behind them. Now, when it was just the two of them, he was shameless and demonstrative. It was a beautiful thing.

Steve’s hand came up and tangled into Bucky’s hair, rough, tugging at his scalp just a little too sharply. Bucky nosed down Steve’s neck to kiss and suck at his neck, reaching back with his left hand to haul one of Steve’s legs tighter to him. He’s not really sure why, but there’s lube under the table next to them. He’s fairly sure they didn’t leave it there, but he’s not going to question it. He’s started to suspect that there’s some sort of magical lube delivery transport in all of Stark’s homes. He might have to ask Tony later, preferably in front of Steve, just for the sheer hilarity factor.

He grabs at it, flipping open the cap one-handed, before clumsily dropping it on Steve’s chest.

“Here, let me,” Steve says, voice whiskey-hoarse. He takes it and Bucky’s right hand, pouring just enough onto his fingers. Bucky smirks at him.

“That’s mighty kind of you, Cap.” His voice is sweet as honey and he gazes at Steve, the picture of earnest gratitude, lube warming in his fingers. Steve quirks an eyebrow up at him then reaches down to slap the right cheek of Bucky’s ass. Christ Almighty, it smarts too. Sometimes, it was Bucky’s greatest desire that all of America could see their golden boy the way Bucky got to. Spit-in-your-mouth aggressive right before he was about to lay back and get fucked eight ways to Sunday. Wearing nothing but the same charming smile he gave to the little old ladies he met during mandatory photo ops. Steve Rogers played dirty, the bastard. 

Bucky’s gaze narrows and he shuffles back, cock aching at the sight before him: Steve’s flushed cock poking out of his ripped pants, nearly dripping onto his tight abs. “Take your pants off, Steven.”

Steve complies about as quick as is humanly possible. Considering who he is, maybe a little faster. He tugs his legs up away from Bucky just long enough to get his pants down past his ankles and kick them off before his legs are back wrapped around Bucky, and he’s yanking him down, just where he needs to be. His cock is still a little spit-slick and it glides against Bucky so lusciously, Bucky can’t help but reach down with his metal hand to hold both of them tight together just for a moment. It satisfies the ache in his balls for a second, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough.

He lets go, kneeling back, still cradled between Steve’s legs. With his face the picture of debauchery, Bucky pushes Steve’s knees back ‘til his heels are resting on Bucky’s hips. He strokes the back of Steve’s thigh with his left thumb, looks up to see Steve biting his lip, a halo of sweaty hair around his face. Perfect.

Bucky drags his eyes down Steve’s body, slow, appreciative of every inch, but not coming to rest until they stop at Steve’s hole, clenching in anticipation. Lube drips off Bucky’s gun-calloused fingers as he lets them glide over Steve, back of his nails rubbing against his rim. With a quick glance upward, he catches Steve’s eye, then he’s pressing his thumb inside of him, withdrawing it as quick as he slid in, relishing the gasp torn from Steve’s mouth.

Taking his time with Steve isn’t necessary, but fuck, it’s too enjoyable to do a rush job of it. He circles the skin of Steve’s rim with his thumb, letting his forefinger dip inside just the tiniest bit, pinching at him, before withdrawing again. He soothes the tormented flesh with two fingers, and then slides them inside, slow, so slow. Steve’s face and chest are flushed; he’s got one fist in his own hair, the other forming a tight vise around the base of his cock. Bucky watches as he fucks his fingers in and out of him, careful to avoid his prostate. He didn’t want this to end anytime soon.

“More. Please.”

“You want my cock? Can you take it, Steve? You’re so tight, baby, I don’t want to hurt you,” Bucky says. Steve shivers at his words and Bucky keeps fingering him, slow. It’s not true. He’s not going to hurt Steve if he fucked him now, he’s completely relaxed and he’s resilient besides but sometimes, sometimes Bucky liked to pretend he was still the delicate, little slip of a thing he used to be. He used to take hours preparing him sometimes, ‘til it felt like he’d do more harm by _not_ fucking him. He knows Steve liked that, even if it frustrated him to no end.

“Come on, I can take it. You know I can.” Steve’s voice is rough and impatient, just barely softened by the arousal coursing through him, lit up by Bucky’s touch.

He withdraws from Steve, pressing sharply against the spot inside him that makes Steve’s body arch, as he goes. He grabs the lube again, squirting more onto his hand, slicks his cock up quickly. With his right hand he guides his cock to Steve’s hole, just barely pressing against him, teasing him while he adjusts Steve’s legs around him. Before he can push in, Steve reaches out, pulling him in for a kiss. Bucky winds his left arm under Steve hauling him closer still, his mouth warring with Steve’s.

Steve runs a hand down Bucky’s side before using just a couple fingers to guide Bucky back to him, rubbing at the head of Bucky’s cock where it rests against his body.

Bucky turns his head to catch his breath, smiles at Steve’s hand brushing the hair out of his face, then he sinks his teeth into Steve’s neck as he sinks into Steve’s body, cock throbbing at the tight heat enveloping him. Steve groans his name like it’s a fucking benediction, one hand grasping tight at his hip, the other still in his hair.

Steve feels—there’s _nothing else_. Nothing else like the way Steve feels. Christ, the heat of him has Bucky’s mind in a fugue state. He shuffles his hips a little, just to get the perfect angle, his teeth still at Steve’s neck, scraping and biting the skin, then he pulls his head back to look at the blond. Steve’s breathing a little too carefully; his eyes are focused on Bucky’s shoulder. He’s overwhelmed, the dial is turned up a notch too high and he’s trying to get himself under control before he goes off too soon. Bucky can read him well.

He pulls back, nearly out of Steve. Runs circles over Steve’s thighs with the palms of his hands, then sliding one hand up to pinch at his nipples. “You’re not close already, are you Steve? When’s the last time you came, baby?”

“You know, Bucky, the talking isn’t helping me at all.” Steve focuses back on his face, breathing out roughly. “I’m fine, _just fuck me_. Come on. When’s the last time _you_ came, huh?”

Bucky huffs out a laugh. “Too long.”

He hauls Steve’s legs up, wraps his hands around muscular thighs and spreads them open, locking them wide apart. He grabs Steve left hand and wraps it around his knee, “Hold.” Not necessary, Steve’s more than capable of keeping his leg up without actually holding it, but it’s kind of hot to see him hold himself open like that. Bucky reaches down to spread Steve’s cheeks apart, getting a delicious view of his hole gripping tight around Bucky’s cock. He sinks back in further, Steve’s little “ _Yeah_ ” ringing in his ears as he feels out the inside of Steve’s body for the first time in three weeks.

Bucky pulls Steve’s knee back toward him, resting it against his shoulder before he lays his right hand flat on the floor, the length of his arm pressed against Steve. His metal hand is still locked around Steve’s other leg. He starts rolling his hips, watches his cock disappear over and over into Steve, the feel of his balls slapping against Steve’s flesh satisfying him almost as much as actually fucking him does. The little things, really, is what he misses most when they’re apart for weeks at a time.

“Bucky, _harder_. Want it harder. Come on.”

Okay. Bucky can give him that.

He takes hold of Steve’s hips, and leans down to brush a quick kiss across full lips before Steve stretches his legs out, making Bucky’s cock slip out of him. Bucky misses the heat of him immediately. Then Steve’s spreading his legs wider, opening himself up to Bucky. He slides his hands back around Steve’s thighs. Pushes back into him until he bottoms out and Steve grinds against him, wantonly. Bucky gasps harshly at the tight heat of him.

 “Gonna give it to you so hard, Steve. Fuck you ‘til you forget your own name, forget every name but mine.”

Then Bucky fucks him. Hard. Deep, punishing thrusts, driving his body across the floor. He can _hear_ the thick rug underneath them scraping the shit out of Steve’s back until he drives his cock into him so hard, so quick that he forces Steve off the rug onto the cold floor. They’re so wrapped up in each other, soft groans interspersed with skin pounding against skin, he barely notices until they’re nearly across the room and Steve’s throwing a hand out against the screen of the fireplace, pushing back before his head can go through it. Bucky hauls him back down across the floor a foot or so, fucking him all the while.

The fuck is a little drier now, a little more raw. The lube is the cheap shit he doesn’t like, it’s leaked out of Steve and he’s not quite as slick as he was, but fuck if Bucky’s slowing down to get more. Jesus, it’s too good, it’s hitting him fast now, dizzying, the pull of Steve’s body at his cock as he screws him across the floor. Steve’s moaning his name, head thrown back against the hardwood. Bucky has to keep reaching up to hitch Steve’s leg up further; Steve’s too far gone to keep it there himself.

“Wait, wait,” Bucky pulls out of him roughly. Kneeling back, he hauls Steve off the floor, nudging him to turn over. Bucky can barely think before Steve is straddling his lap, his back to Bucky’s chest and his legs spread wide, then he’s sinking back down, grinding on Bucky’s cock.

Bucky wraps his hand back around Steve’s throat, squeezing, cutting off his moans before shoving him down toward the floor, Steve’s thighs slipping off of his lap even as Bucky follows him down, unwilling to lose the tight grip around his cock again for even a moment, Steve’s clearly right there with him because he’s shoving back onto Bucky’s cock like milking an orgasm out of him is the secret to finding the holy grail. _Fuck_.

He grabs Steve’s hips, stilling him for a moment. Then, Bucky tugs the gorgeous man back up onto him, spreads Steve’s legs so far apart that he is barely balanced on Bucky’s lap and he’s starting to tip forward with each of Bucky’s thrusts. Bucky wraps a strong hand around Steve’s bicep and uses the other to hold onto his hip tightly, thrusting up into Steve shallowly then building to a brutal, blissful rhythm.

He watches the gorgeous line of Steve’s back, muscles flexing as Bucky drags him back onto his cock to meet his own thrusts.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

 He’s love-drunk off of this beautiful, powerful man on top of him that’s fallen limp, like a rag doll, just letting himself be used for Bucky’s pleasure, soft grunts escaping his throat on the upstroke, the only tension in his body around his thighs as holds himself up, unwilling to fall forward off of Bucky’s cock.

The tight heat of Steve has Bucky gasping for breath, his hips pounding against Steve erratically now. He’s close, he wanted to make Steve come first, but it’s been so long and he can’t—

His vision whites out, and he loses himself for a moment to the sweetest, smallest death, his cock pulsing into the clutch of Steve’s body. Steve, who takes it so good, groans at the feel of wetness inside of him. It gets him hot, it always has and Bucky’s glad to give it to him. He’s breathing hard into the side of Steve’s neck, the scent of him filling Bucky’s nose. He grinds one last time into Steve, groaning when Steve reaches down to smack his flank sharply, twice, before squeezing around him painfully hard. Right. Steve’s not done with him yet.

Bucky pulls out, replacing his cock with two metal fingers immediately. His own cock is wet and softening, unimportant now, because Steve feels painfully hard when Bucky reaches around to wrap his right hand around him. He tosses his head back, whipping the hair out of his eyes so he can see Steve a little better. Steve’s planted his toes on the floor for leverage, as he kneels up fucking himself on Bucky’s fingers. Bucky reaches up to tip Steve’s head to the side, his eyes are shut tight, thick lashes fanned across his cheek and his teeth are digging grooves into his bottom lip. He brushes his lips across Steve’s and Steve moans, a low and needy sound.

There’s come starting to leak out around Bucky’s fingers and well, that’s just a waste. He can’t even feel it, really with his metal fingers.

Bucky pulls his fingers out and Steve’s eyes snap open to glare. “Buck—”

Bucky cuts him off quick, speaks quietly against his lips, his voice rough now. “C’mere, I’ll make you come, I promise, Steve. Just, just let me have a little taste of you. Taste myself in you. You know how much I love it, Stevie.”

Steve sits up a little, a silent groan escaping from his mouth. “You want me to—”

“Yeah, you know what I want.”

Steve gets up on shaky legs, skin gleaming with sweat and cock swinging between his legs. “Couch, come on, that floor is hard.”

Bucky snorts but rises up after him, a little more graceful, but barely. He lets Steve wrap his arms around his waist, sighs at the way Steve’s mouth immediately searches out his neck, dotting kisses up to his ear. He moves out of Steve’s grasp and walks over to flop over the arm of the long, plush couch, knees swinging off the side. He stretches out, opening his arm out to Steve who’s right there, looking all eager to sit on his face.

Bucky stares up at him lasciviously, “Come to Daddy.”

Steve huffs adorably. “You know, my favourite part about this is that you can’t actually _speak_ when you got your tongue in my—”

“Yeah, yeah, in the words of a wise man: less sass, more ass, baby,” Bucky grins at him, the last thing he sees is Steve roll his eyes before he’s on the couch, blocking the sunlight and straddling Bucky’s face, bending forward and resting one hand by Bucky’s knee, the other hand moving down to squeeze at his erection.

“Actually, you know wh—,” Bucky’s cut off by Steve smothering him with the space between his ass and balls pressed right over his mouth. He feels Steve shake with laughter before breaking off into a moan when Bucky reaches up to wrap his cold, metal fist tight around Steve’s balls, playing with them as Steve strips his fist over his cock.

Wetness on his upper lip reminds Bucky of the task at hand. He smoothes his other hand up over Steve’s thigh, feeling the warm skin and sparse hair over tight powerful muscles. He grabs at Steve’s ass cheek, spreading him, pushing him up about an inch then dragging his tongue from perineum to his puckered rim, licking and sucking at the abused skin. His own come wets his lips and he groans against Steve’s body.

Steve is fucking back and forth, torn between Bucky’s mouth and his own hand, and Bucky’s not gonna make it easier on him. He wraps his metal hand around Steve’s fist on his cock, letting the cold metal stroke Steve’s feverish skin sporadically, following Steve’s hand, tracing down the thick vein before circling the head of his cock. Steve lets out a long moan and sits furthers back onto Bucky’s face, riding the tongue Bucky just shoved deep into his ass.

They never did this back before, before the Winter Soldier, before Captain America, and Bucky’s glad, part of him is selfishly glad that the man he was before, the man who had _everything_ , didn’t have this. It’s a little dirty, a little bit wrong, but it’s sexy as all hell, tasting and smelling and breathing in Steve here. Bucky could lie here for hours and be content to just fuck Steve with his tongue until he comes, let him wind down then get him hard and make him come again.

Bucky pulls back a bit, lips brushing against the soft hair on Steve’s ass and his eyes raking over him. His hole is a little swollen and Bucky feels a little bad for that, it makes him want to be sweeter to him now, softer with him. He brushes two fingers across him, spreading him apart so he can dive back in with his tongue, lapping at the come still inside him, the hot, bruised muscle fluttering around him. Steve’s getting close now he thinks.

Bucky takes a deep breath and buries his face into Steve, tongue shoved as far into him as he can manage, his saliva and come and the lube too, running down his mouth and chin as Steve grinds back onto him. He moves his left hand away from Steve’s cock, Steve’s doing just fine on his own, and he takes hold of Steve’s hip, holding him steady so he can slide a finger in alongside his tongue, feeling around ‘til he can press right where Steve needs it.

Steve throws his head back and lets go of a loud, broken moan as he clenches around Bucky and comes over his fist, onto Bucky’s chest, painting it with hot, white streaks. Bucky moans against him, he’s done but his own cock twitches with half-hearted desire as Steve collapses onto him, his chest pressed against Bucky’s groin. Bucky pushes him to the side against the back of the couch, then lifts his head up to settle on Steve’s thigh. Steve shifts, settles with his head against Bucky’s knee, one arm thrown over him.

“Fuck.”

His voice is a little hoarse, but the sentiment is clear enough. Steve reaches down and seeks out his hand, just holding it in his as they come down from the high. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

Bucky laughs, a little too loud in the quiet afterglow, but fuck it. He missed this man. He tells him so, and Steve smiles.

“I missed you too. Tell you what, next time, maybe we should try the whole Skype sex thing you were trying to get me to do.” Steve runs his fingers over Bucky’s hand, feeling the sinewy strength in them.

Bucky looks at him sharply. “Really? Well, now it just sounds like you’re trying to give me a reason to go away again.”

“Hey now, I think we can still find some fun things to do while you’re home,” Steve says, lips brushing over Bucky’s leg.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I think you were saying something earlier about handcuffing me to the shower head?”

 _Fuck_.

Bucky digs the fingers of his left hand into Steve’s ribs, tickling him as he sits up and moves his legs off the arm of the couch. He turns around and lies back down with his head next to Steve, tugs him closer and nods, “We definitely need a shower. Nap first, though.”

Steve hums and leans in to kiss him softly, sweetly. Bucky stares at him when he pulls back as wash of sunlight spills onto their faces. He feels Steve run a hand through his sweaty hair, smoothing it away from his face before Bucky grabs it, kissing his palm before laying it against his chest and pulling Steve’s head down to his shoulder. Bucky shuts his eyes before letting one eye peek open again at Steve’s face, one last quick look at the content smile gracing that handsome face, then he’s drifting off, his whole world safe in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is the first bit of writing I've posted online since the embarrassingly bad Linkin Park bandfic I wrote over a decade ago, so needless to say, I would appreciate feedback of any sort. I'm a bit rusty!
> 
> I've got ideas brewing for several other fics (porny and otherwise) so stay tuned I guess :)


End file.
